Pink Bullets
by halfwayhopeful
Summary: After a lifetime of being alone, and after trying not to be and failing, Severus Snape comes to the conclusion that he should accept his fate as permanent bachelor. 'Pink Bullets' songfic, rated T for mild sexuality.


Pink Bullets

Oneshot, Songfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 'Pink Bullets' was written by James Mercer of the Shins, and is licensed under Sub Pop Records.

………..

_I was just bony hands, as cold as a winter pole_

_You held a warm stone out, new flowing blood to hold_

Harry Potter was sitting on the stool next to Severus Snape in the Boar's Head, drunk off his ass and offering to buy his former professor a beer. It had been six months since the defeat of Voldemort, and Severus had been released from St. Mungo's the week prior. He ran an icy hand over his face and considered the offer a moment before nodding tersely. And so it began.

_Oh, what a contrast you were to the brutes in the halls_

_My timid young fingers held a decent animal._

Severus moaned softly as Harry pinned him to the inside of his bedroom door, his slim body pressed roughly against the stronger one of the younger man. Eyes closed, he relished the feel of Potter's lips brushing against his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw. He felt . . . attractive.

A mumble from Harry brought him back to the present, and he hummed in response and captured the boy's lips with his own.

Harry pulled away. "I _said_ . . . 'top or bottom' ?"

"Mr. Potter, I _always_ bottom."

"Well . . . alright then."

_Over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers_

_Tied to a brick, sweet as a song, the years have been short but the days were long._

It wasn't often that Severus awoke in the arms of another, and certainly not with one of his bedmate's arms wrapped protectively around his waist. Enjoying the experience for a moment, he burrowed further into the warm front or his former student, an amused smirk crossing his features when he felt the younger man's morning erection pressing into his lower back.

Harry's legs wrapped around Severus', and as the younger man proceeded to rut shamelessly against the older man, Severus couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was how mornings after one night stands were supposed to begin.

_Cool of a temperate breeze, from dark skies to wet grass_

_We fell in a field; it seems now a thousand summers passed_

It was nearly a week later when the two bumped into each other again. As this ball was one in a long line of Post-War celebrations, they were unlikely to be missed. The evening was cool, and Severus was pleased to find the Minister's garden was secluded and badly lit. Fully clothed, he could still feel Harry's body heat call to his as they lay in the stillness, lips grazing, hands wandering. It felt . . . nice. And Severus wondered, not for the first time, why it ever had to end.

_When our kite lines first crossed, we tied them into knots _

_and, to finally fly apart, we had to cut them off._

"Sev?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are my glass-never mind, I found them."

"I cleared out a shelf . . ." Severus offered cautiously, fully expecting a laugh, or a downtrodden, 'Oh'. He received neither, but Harry's hand smoothing down the front of his shirt and the warm, dry lips on his temple where quite enough.

_Since then it's been a book you read in reverse, so you understand less as the pages turn_

_Or a movie so crass, and awkardly cast, that even I could be the star._

"What am I to you?" Harry said, comfortably lying half-on-top of Severus on the older man's worn sofa.

Severus considered the question a moment, hand stilling in Harry's hair as his thoughts got the best of him. "You're my lover. I sleep with you and you stay over most nights. You don't live with me, but I wouldn't be object to the idea if you brought it up casually."

Harry sighed, and Severus' warning bells went off immediately.

"Is that all?" Harry said quietly, and Severus knew from years of quiet observation that the boy was on the edge of something, and could not be swayed either way.

"Would you _like_ to be more?"

Harry sat up, and there were tears in his eyes and anger in his voice. "We've been sleeping together for six months, Severus. Not once have you asked to go out in public with you. You've never told me about your past, and you've never asked me about mine. Do you even _care_, or am I just something to occupy your time, and take your mind off of other things?"

Severus looked away, uncomfortable with the sudden outburst. He had thought of all those things, of course, their lack of public appearances, their unspoken commitment to each other. The only reason he had not voiced them was because Harry was young and sure to have no idea what he really wanted. Severus had wanted to avoid jeopardizing things by pressuring the younger man into a commitment, so he hadn't. Obviously that approach had backfired. Badly.

"Harry, we both know you've already made up your mind."

Harry shook his head and looked as if he wanted to slap the older man, and Severus wouldn't have minded; he was certain he deserved it one way or another. Instead, Harry grabbed his coat and left without another word. Severus looked around his living room and thought maybe it would look less lonely if he moved the furniture around.

_I don't look back as much as a rule, and all this way before murder was cool_

_But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay . . ._

_Warm light on a winter day._

He remembered this process from Lily, only there was less self-hatred this time around. He had owled Harry's things to him, to the flat he'd only visited four or five times. It made him feel a little stupid to be putting things back in their original places on the shelves now that Harry's things were gone. He found he just wanted to burn them.

Seeing Harry at Order events was the worst. The nodded cordially, said their hellos; anyone who knew them well enough heard the strain in their voices, but only Hermione knew of their relationship. Once, Severus could have sworn Harry was about to apologize, but then the Weasely chit had appeared and asked Harry to dance, and that was the end of that.

It was a physical ache, waking up alone after months of not doing so, but Severus weaned himself into it, first by sleeping with some kind of object near him, then simply keeping his bed warm with a charm. It made him feel more alone when he awoke, but the sleep was well worth it.

_Over the ramparts you tossed the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers_

_Tied to a brick, sweet as a song, _

It was only at Harry's wedding a year later that Severus felt any kind of anger. And even that quickly dissipated when he had the man alone, after politely asking to speak to him at the reception. Their eyes met, head on, and it all came back in a wave, the long nights, the leisurely mornings, the sex, and the sex, and the whispered words.

He took Harry firmly by the shoulder and kissed him, restraining himself because, after all, Harry _was_ now a married man. Their tongues met for the briefest instant, and Severus felt Harry's reluctance as he pulled away, swallowed the stifled moan offered beforehand.

"You were my lover." He said, quite calmly. "And don't think I've forgotten you called me the same."

_The years have been short but the days go slowly by_

_Two loose kites falling from the sky_

_Drawn to the ground and an end to flight._


End file.
